From Denial to a Kiss
by Zanni-Smile
Summary: 13 drabbles, short, sweet, and a hundred words each, done for an lj challenge. CainRiff. Rated just to be safe.


**Author's note:** Another 13drabbles livejournal challenge. Comments/criticism always appreciated.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing, and I make no money from this. Please don't sue me and take my two (unshiny) pennies.

**#1 - First Time**

The first time it had happened, Cain had been tipsy after a party, alcohol noticeable on his breath. Riff ignored it.

The second time, Cain had been upset after a meeting with the doctor who wanted to cut out his eyes, his pulse racing with fear. Riff once again ignored it.

This time, however, there was no excuse, because Cain was sober and had not been traumatized this particular day. Riff could no longer ignore it.

Cain had been sleeping in Riff's bed. Riff made a very comfortable pillow the first time, was Cain's reasoning, so why deny himself comfort?

**#2 - Difference**

There were almost two separate Cains: the one the world knew, and the one Riff knew.

Both had minds as piercing as swords, both had all-knowing smirks, both had eyes that saw through the masks of fake innocence people often wore.

But Riff's Cain had experienced more sorrow than anyone deserved, had uncertainty hiding under an unflustered voice, had a need to be taken care of, had a need for someone to look after him.

So Riff stayed by Cain's side, and witnessed his sorrows, and kept him from shattering into a million fragments. And that made all the difference.

**#3 - Similarity**

One was auburn-haired, with rare eyes of green-gold, soft in looks, harsh when he wanted to be. He held himself with an air befitting his noble title, but was scandalous in every move.

The other was white-haired, more classic in features, a Hide hiding under his serene propriety and polished manner. He kept to his place, on occasion dangerously close to crossing boundaries of what he was to his master because he was a servant.

They were one in their want, their desire, their devotion, their obsession with each other, their willingness to be dragged down together, happily into darkness.

**#4 - Eyes**

Cain was a watcher. He could see into people's hearts and minds, see what made them tick, see the evil lurking there. He could watch and anticipate their moves. He would watch his sister happily playing; he would watch Oscar make a fool of himself; he would watch the idiot, sycophantic nobility and nouveau riche spin untrue rumors; and he would watch Riff.

Riff, in truth, could not always watch Cain. His duties running the house kept him much too busy. But one thing was certain.

When Riff was anywhere near Cain, he had eyes for him and him alone.

**#5 - Health**

It had started with a few sneezes, then a sore throat, then a headache, then Riff condemned Cain to bed for a week. Cain was admittedly getting better, but Riff wanted to be safe.

"But Riff," pleaded Cain, "I am _bored_."

"If you'll rest for a few more days, sir, you will be free to do anything you want."

They had a sort of staring contest, and Cain knew he would not be let out of bed.

"Fine, I'll stay in bed," Cain relented. Riff started to leave, but Cain grasped his arm. "Just remember, Riff, you said _anything_."

Cain's eyes gleamed with promise, and Riff decided to be more careful with his word choice.

**#6 - Food/Drink**

Cain was not exactly a picky eater, but he did have a habit of skipping meals, especially when he was not in the safety of his own home. Part of it was distrust, but sometimes, a part of it was giving Riff a hard time. He loved teasing the older man. Riff did anything to please Cain, and Cain basked in the attention.

Riff finally "convinced" Cain that the plate of fruit was not poisoned, as Cain had very well known all along, but Cain had one more request for the meal: Riff would feed him every strawberry by hand.

**#7 - Memory**

She touched him. That impudent little maid had dared to touch him, even tried to kiss him. She should have known that Riff belonged to Cain and Cain alone, she should have known that you do not touch Cain's property. She deserved to die. She deserved to die more painfully than she had. Maybe he should have poisoned her instead of leaving it up to chance, maybe—

Cain's thoughts were broken by the voice of the same valet he was thinking of.

"Are you all right, Lord Cain?" asked Riff, touching his shoulder.

"Just reminiscing," Cain assured him with a smile.

**#8 - The Past**

When Cain was a child, he cried easily, and bled easily, and wanted someone to pay attention to him so very badly. He was a love-starved child, cast upon others' mercy, having committed the sin of being born, a sin he could not control.

What Cain desired was not so extraordinary. He wanted affection to be cast upon him.

Riff arrived. Cain found affection. He grew jealous when Riff cast eyes upon anyone but him. Like any other child with something prized, Cain coveted Riff and wanted to share him with no one.

Cain never grew out of his childhood.

**#9 - The Future**

Maybe it would be tomorrow. Cain would fall too deeply into an obsession—his own or someone else's. Always he was caught between life and death. Perhaps tomorrow would be the day he crossed that boundary.

The day he was finally outwitted, the hour help arrived too late, the minutes miscalculated so that one of Cain's poisons did not work quickly enough, the second too late to dodge a scorned lover's bullet or a madman's ax.

The day his own crazed family ended Cain's precarious existence.

Maybe tomorrow would be the end, but no matter what, Riff would continue to follow.

**#10 - The Present**

Cain was not one for gifts. Whenever he received a birthday present from some sycophantic relative or a token of Christmas cheer from some father looking to marry off a daughter, Cain cringed.

They were always meaningless, some garment of silk or chocolate confection or aged wine. Gifts given to Cain were always expensive, and always with a silent expectation of repayment.

But there was one certain gift imprinted upon Cain's memory, one he wanted to repay a thousand times over.

Cain doubted he could ever give Riff something of equal value to giving him sanity, but he could try.

**#11 - Dreams/Nightmares**

All Cain could see was thorns and brambles twisting, winding, tearing into his skin, creating crisscross crimson patterns all across his body to match his back. The scent of roses entered the world. Cain was a blood-red bloom among the lashing rose thorns, suffocating among them, screaming but unable to force out the sound and—

Cain was awake, and freed from the shadow world we all fall victim to. Riff stood by his bed, hand on Cain's shoulder. Cain instinctively leaned against him, and Riff understood. He watched over Cain that night.

Cain had no more dreams.

**#12 - Something/Someone Missing**

Cain glared at the rain outside as he shifted in his window. He glowered at the clock proclaiming it to be two o'clock in the morning. Things were askew.

He huffed as he walked into the halls, then he scowled as he passed a bedroom that was unpleasantly empty.

Cain moved downstairs and waited on the couch in the foyer. About half an hour later, a white-haired man entered carrying a package under his arm. Cain pounced.

"Riff, next time, wait until morning to get me my preferred brand of tea!"

Cain's way of saying "I'd rather have you here."

**#13 - Unexpected**

Riff prided himself on knowing his master's habits. He knew when Cain took his bath, when he preferred to be woken, how he liked his tea prepared.

Riff noticed how Cain's eyes shined when something nefarious was taking place, how he rarely truly smiled, how he stiffened whenever anything brushed against his back, how Cain relaxed under his watchful eye.

He could predict these things.

Cain, however, was always one to take people by surprise. Riff was quite shocked—but nevertheless pleased—when Cain leaned down while Riff was tying his shoelaces and planted a firm kiss against his lips.


End file.
